Chapter Six
Two sharpened rib bones now rested in Konrad’s inner coat pocket. He hoped fervently that he would not have to add a third.
He had retired to The Malykt’s temple, as he often did when the leads on a mystery ran dry and he was unsure where to turn for answers. The peace in this place was soothing; it calmed the furious whirl of his thoughts and cleared his mind, the better to see the patterns that lay beneath the confused assortment of clues he had collected.
Sometimes he felt The Malykt’s presence brush against his mind, as cold and merciless as winter itself. The Overlord had granted Konrad considerable privileges in exchange for his service, and he expected swift results. In his years as the Malykant, he had never yet failed his master. What the consequences of that might be he did not know, but the mere prospect was enough to set his heart beating quick and hard with fear.
Such a rush of feeling was rare for him. Emotion was an impediment to the calm clarity of mind he needed in order to carry out his duties - all his duties. And so, when he had become the Malykant, his new master had taken it all. Konrad had felt some core part of his soul wrenched away and scattered to the winds, and since then, where his emotions should have been he felt only emptiness, and a faint echo of the feelings he might otherwise have had.
The only exception was his reaction to the Spiritlord Himself. Determined to retain the loyal service of his chief disciple, The Malykt had left Konrad’s fear of Him intact. A pleasant gift, Konrad thought as his bound soul shivered under the eye of his master.
He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, drawing his usual calm around himself until his heartbeat slowed and his mind cleared. Think, Konrad. He had uncovered many pieces of this puzzle and they would fit together somehow.
Lord Amrav Rostikov. Konrad had been inclining towards him as a suspect; after all, he stood to gain the most from Navdina’s death. But now he, too, lay dead and cold, and he had been prevented from speaking of his murder. Two Rostikovs… he discarded the idea that Navdina’s fate might have been intended for another. Might Irinanda’s poison-man hold some manner of grudge against the family? He knew of no particular crime the Rostikovs had committed, but perhaps something lay hidden behind their respectable facade.
If that was the case, then Rostikov’s young wife might be in danger. Perhaps not; she had been in the house when her husband was killed, yet she had been spared. Did that mean she was exempted from whatever curse dogged the rest of her family, or had she been more directly involved?
Then there was the nurse, Etraya Marodeva. Perhaps she knew something of it. Her manner was not as he would expect from a woman in her position. He would speak to her again, and today. If she had any information, she would tell him.
His skin prickled with the awareness that he was being watched. Raising his head, he a dark figure sitting midway up the tiers across from him, a woman by her shape and posture. The brim of her hat shaded her face, but he could see her mouth. She was smirking at him.
‘Nanda,’ he said softly, knowing she would hear him. ‘You are following me.’
She stood up and made her way around to his seat. ‘You are paranoid,’ she replied with a wicked smile. ‘I came to pay my respects to His Greatness and I find you, shivering with cold and fear under the eye of The Malykt. What can it mean?’
Konrad snorted. ‘If you may pay your respects to His Greatness, why mayn’t I do so with equal innocence?’
‘And the reason for your fear?’
‘I was cold.’
‘Cold? I think not.’
Konrad said nothing.
‘Well,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I have shopping to do.’ She turned away. He might have expected her to be angry – she frequently was, with him – but her manner struck him as sad, and that bit at his heart. He watched, undecided, as she picked her way back down the tiers to the ground, and left the temple.
He went after her.
‘Nanda, wait.’ He didn’t have to run far. She stood outside the main door of the temple, hands folded, obviously expecting him. He glowered at her in faint annoyance. She was far too good at manipulating him, for no reason he could imagine.
Now he noticed that her little gold-furred monkey travelled inside her cloak. The damned creature’s expression mirrored hers: smug.
‘Yes, Konrad,’ said Irinanda, a small smile tugging at her lips.
‘Are you just being a plague, or are you inclined to help?’
She lifted her chin. ‘Help with what?’
‘Solve the murder. No, I am not going to tell you why, so don’t ask.’
She grinned outright at that. ‘I’ll help.’
‘Then find the poison-man.’
She gave a little mock-bow, her hand over her heart. ‘Yes, my liege. As you command.’
‘This is not a game, Nanda. Take some care.’
Irinanda nodded seriously. ‘I know. See you soon.’ She wandered off, disappearing into the evening shadows.
Konrad watched her go, hoping he hadn’t made a colossal mistake. But he had the feeling that Nanda could handle herself very well indeed.
As he finally turned to leave, movement flickered at the edges of his vision. Several figures were hurrying up the street, on their way to one of the several temples that waited here. Their movements were brisk and hurried; none of them looked at him. This was as he expected.
The movement that had caught his attention had been a stealthy one: the suggestion of a dark figure just slipping out of sight. His senses prickled. He was being watched: he would swear to it.
Serpents, he called silently. He relayed to them the glimpse he’d had of his pursuer and they darted away.
Unwilling to appear suspicious, he began the walk back to his home, his pace slow. It wasn’t hard to appear lost in thought. Why would somebody be following him? His mind flew back to Amrav Rostikov’s missing tongue. Somebody knew his methods; perhaps they had identified him as well.
That thought was a chilling one. If it was so, what was the intended purpose behind having him shadowed? Was the pursuer gathering information, with a view to exposing Konrad’s identity? Or was it worse still?
The serpent-shades were back, twining their glacial spirits around his soul.
No one is there, Malykant.
Far from reassuring him, this news only deepened his concern. He had learned to trust his senses over the years. That somebody was following him he had no doubt, but that person was apparently adept enough to evade his serpents. That suggested two things.
One: he or she knew about Eetapi and Ootapi, too.
And two: whoever was on his tail was no amateur. Most likely a hire, then, and a professional. But a professional what? Investigator, or assassin?
A day later, and the investigation at the Rostikov house was mostly over. The crowds of reporters were gone, and Konrad passed only a single solitary policeman on his way in. That suited his purposes well.
He gave his card to the butler and waited. Analena Rostikov was in mourning for her husband, but still he thought she would agree to see him. He’d gone to considerable trouble to arrive here undetected; though he had made it home yesterday without incident, he had been awake and on edge all night, expecting some manner of confrontation or attack. None had yet come, but he remained vigilant.
The butler returned. ‘Her Ladyship is at home,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ Konrad followed the servant upstairs and into the drawing-room. As the butler discreetly withdrew, Konrad studied the new widow.
She was sitting bolt upright on an uncomfortably hard divan. Her mourning attire was impeccable, but she looked tired and her face was drawn and white. He recognised the signs of agitation in her posture and the way her hands fidgeted restlessly with the trimmings of her gown.
He felt a stab of sympathy for the woman. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five or so, he guessed; much the same age that Navdina had been. She was shocked, upset and afraid: he read that in her.
‘Lady Rostikova,’ he murmured, offering a bow. ‘Forgive my intrusion. I wished to convey my condolences, and also to offer my services to you.’
‘Your services?’ She looked at him without much interest, her eyes dull with tiredness.
‘If there is anything I may do for you, you have only to name it.’
She said nothing for a moment. Her gaze dropped to her lap, and she swallowed hard, blinking.
‘Are you some kind of private investigator?’ she enquired, fixing her cool blue eyes on him again.
‘An interesting guess, my lady. Why should you suppose it?’
‘I met you for the first time after Lady Navdina’s death. You went looking for us deliberately, I suppose. And you were here again yesterday.’
Konrad blinked. He hadn’t entered the house yesterday - at least, not after his midnight visit. Could she possibly know about that?
‘I saw you from the window,’ she added. ‘Out there.’ She gestured vaguely.
He bowed. ‘I suppose I am an amateur investigator, of sorts.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘It is a strange profession for a gentleman to undertake.’
He shrugged, unwilling to be goaded. ‘Even a gentleman must have something to do with his time.’
‘Most gentlemen find they can occupy themselves perfectly well without surrounding themselves with murders, thefts and criminals.’
‘It is an interest of mine,’ Konrad replied coolly. ‘And I have an aptitude for the work.’
‘Very well, Mr Savast. As unusual a specimen as you may be, if you can solve this mystery I shall be profoundly grateful to you. As long as the truth remains hidden, I exist in fear of my life.’
‘Then you think yourself a target?’
She lifted one elegant shoulder in a shrug. ‘What else am I to think? Until recently there were but three of us bearing the Rostikov name. Now I am the only one remaining. I cannot help but imagine that I may also be at risk.’
‘But you saw nothing, two nights ago? You heard nothing?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. But I am not a light sleeper. Perhaps if I had been, then poor Amrav might not have died…’
She pursed her lips tightly together, mastering herself quickly. Konrad watched silently.
‘Why was your husband in his study at that time of night? Did he retire as normal?’
‘Amrav liked to read late. He was often in his study until the early hours of the morning. That night was no different. I retired before midnight, but he did not come to bed before I fell asleep.’
‘Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your husband?’
She bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears as she shook her head. ‘He had many friends. But he was wealthy, and he had a high position in Ekamet. Perhaps jealousy…’
Konrad leapt on that. ‘Was there anyone in particular who was jealous of him?’
‘No. Nobody that I know of.’
Konrad sighed, frustrated. He was out of questions, and she had given him nothing useful. ‘There is one particular servant under your roof with whom I’d like to speak further. Her name is Marodeva?’
Was it his imagination, or did she stiffen at those words? Her posture was already so rigid that it was difficult to be sure.
‘The nurse? Why should you be interested in her?’
‘There is no reason for alarm,’ Konrad replied calmly. ‘She knew Navdina very well, and I believe she may be able to offer some useful information, if she was properly persuaded.’
Her ladyship lifted one delicate brow. ‘Properly persuaded?’
‘I believe she was suspicious of my questions when I spoke to her before. Perhaps if her employer were to encourage her to be open with me?’
Her face was very cold. She knew something about Etraya, he felt sure, but would she share it with him?
‘I would be delighted to be of use,’ Lady Rostikova was saying, ‘but unfortunately Miss Marodeva is unwell and I do not think she should be disturbed at present.’
Konrad felt a thrill at those words. ‘Unwell? I am sorry to hear it. Is her indisposition grave? Perhaps I may be able to speak with her tomorrow.’
She shook her head decisively. ‘I doubt that very much. She is quite unwell and confined to her bed.’
Konrad hoped for more: some mention of her symptoms would be an enormous help to him. But her ladyship said nothing more, and he didn’t wish to give himself away by probing further. He merely nodded.
‘Perhaps I might be informed when she recovers,’ he said.
‘Certainly. And in turn you will let me know if you uncover anything relevant.’ It was not a question.
‘Of course,’ he replied. Naturally he would not; he never shared details of a case with anybody who was involved.
She nodded and rang the bell. The butler reappeared.
‘Please show Mr Savast out,’ said the Lady coolly.
Konrad waited until he and the manservant had reached the hall before he asked his next question.
‘I’m sorry to hear of Miss Marodeva’s indisposition,’ he said as the butler opened the door for him. ‘May I ask the cause of her illness?’
‘A fever of some kind,’ the man replied. ‘Most uncomfortable. A shame, for she’s a good woman.’
‘Uncomfortable?’
The man nodded, his face pale. ‘Her skin burns red, and itches. She claws at herself.’
‘My best wishes for her recovery,’ Konrad said, hiding the chill he felt. As the door to the great house closed behind him, he stood for a moment in thought.
Etraya Marodeva had been the target of the poison Irinanda had given to her so-called “poison-man”. And he had administered it in the belief that it would kill.
Presumably he was still expecting her to die of her affliction. The butler certainly seemed to believe that she would. But Irinanda had said that it was not fatal. Sooner or later her would-be murderer would realise that, too, and try something else.
He went straight to the police station and asked for Nuritov. The inspector was not available.
‘Get this to him, please,’ Konrad said, scrawling a note on a piece of paper. He folded it up and handed it across to the officer manning the desk. ‘It’s urgent.’
Etraya Marodeva is the next target, read the note. She must be placed under guard. If possible, she should be removed from the Rostikov house.
His own task was a difficult one. What connection did Etraya have to this case? Was she an accomplice, now being eliminated for what she knew? Or was it knowledge alone that made a target of her? He’d received the impression before that she knew more than she’d said about Navdina’s death. Somebody wished to remove her, and it was intended to be the sort of death that would raise no suspicion. Perhaps that was so that she could not speak any further to people such as himself.
He would have to find a way to see her, and hope she remained lucid enough to speak with him. And that meant another midnight visit to Rostikov House.
This time, though, would be much more difficult, for the house was on its guard against intruders.
And there remained the matter of his unknown pursuer; just to make life particularly complicated.
Konrad sighed. There would be no sleep for him tonight, either.
The Rostikov Legacy Page 7
